


Final Chapter

by Pinkette



Category: Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
Genre: Epilogue for Of Mice and Men, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 02:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15742290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkette/pseuds/Pinkette
Summary: This is basically an extra chapter for Of Mice and Men. The idea behind it is 'What if?'





	Final Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Feedback would be awesome. I am still developing my writing skills and wrote this as a practice for my English assessment.

The sun was high in the sky shinning down on the ranch with an almost oppressive heat. Its reflection from the machinery and metal prongs of the pitch forks glared into the tired eyes of the men who toiled in the field, while a playful breeze rustled softly through the swaying sycamore trees and cooled the sweat glistening on the necks of the concentrated men.

 Alone, Slim walked towards the bunkhouse, sweat sliding slowly down his exhausted face. He wiped it off with a quick flick of his steady hand. The distant cak-cak-cak of a Cooper’s hawk carried by the wind was answered by the distinct haunting song of a wood thrush as it soared over the quiet ranch as a lone figure approached a building. His footsteps were light as he strode towards the bunkhouse. As if he were afraid of startling something, Slim pushed the door open in a steady, slow motion, flinching as a faint creak revealed his presence.

 The wave of hot air that escaped the bunkhouse cause Slim to take a momentary step backwards. A sudden gust of air whirled eddies of dirt past Slim and dried the sweat that had been weaving its way down his neck. The bunkhouse was eerily silent as Slim stared wearily inside. The lazy buzz of a half-dead fly flying jagged shapes around the inside of the bunkhouse was the only sound that penetrated the blanket of quiet that surrounded the building.

 With a heavy sigh, Slim stepped past the threshold and cautiously approached George, who was sitting on the edge of his bunk staring blankly at Lennie’s empty bunk, in the way others would approach an injured wild animal. Stepping closer, Slim saw the other man’s features. George was almost unrecognisable; His face gaunt, skin pale, eyes distant, and all of his joy seeming to have been leeched out of him just as Lennie’s life had pooled from his head with his blood.

 George did not acknowledge Slim’s presence as he approached until he spoke, “I killed him,” George whispered, his voice raw and gravelly as if he had not drank in a while.

 “You had to, Geroge,” Slim responded uselessly. “He wasn’t gonna be fine any other way.”

 “It’s my fault,” George continued, ignoring Slim. “I shoulda jus’ left with ‘im. An’ Lennie would ‘ave been fine,” His voice trembled with barely contained emotions.

 “It’s not your fault,” Slim looked away from George briefly as something other than self-loathing flashed across the younger man’s face. His eyes clearing for a moment to allow for anger to shine furiously through his dark brown eyes. And then it disappeared. Almost like how a flame flickers out when struck by a wind, his eyes darkened.

 “We could ‘ave had a little place together,” George began, his voice hollow and void of conviction as if he were repeating a meaningless mantra. “Coulda had a garden with plenty of alfalfa for the rabbits.”

 Slim sat down beside George as a heavy silence filled the air. “The funeral is bein’ held tomorrow, at the church,” Slim said neutrally.

 “An’ Lennie coulda tended to the rabbits!” George suddenly shouted. His next words were hoarse with emotion as he whispered the reality of their broken dream. “But now…” Slim put a supportive hand on the distraught man’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

 Loud voices and a scuffling of feet broke through the tense silence. “Man that big oaf could work!” Someone exclaimed, unaware of who waited inside the bunkhouse.

 “I know,” another replied. “Shame he hadda screw loose.”

 Slim shot George a concerned look as Curley’s unmistakeable voice rang out clear as day across the ranch. The cool breeze around the ranch suddenly disappeared and the warbles of a yellow-rumped warbler and whooping of a northern cardinal ceased. “Not such a shame really.” Curley’s arrogant tone carried easily through the silence. “The brute was outta control! He murdered my wife! An’ didn’t hesitate to kill that pup either. Probably woulda killed us all in our sleep if he hadn’t been put down like the mutt he was.”

 George inhaled sharply before leaping from the bed without warning and stomped out of the bunkhouse. He flew at Curley, trembling with barely concealed rage. George’s hand gripped the top of Curley’s collared shirt tightly.

 “Wanna repeat that, Curley?” George spat out in fake politeness as he shoved the spiteful man violently.

 Curley laughed forcefully. “Yeah, sure.”

 “Curley,” Slim warned from his position at the bunkhouse doorway. His tense form leaning heavily on the doorframe as if he were trying to appear casual, calm and collected.

 Curley ignored Slim’s warning. “That cuckoo of yours was outta control. He murdered my wife and was likely plannin’ on killin’ us all in our sleep.” Curley smirked when George’s furious glare dropped, breaking their eye contact. “We are just lucky he was shot in the back of the head like the mutt he was.”

 Suddenly, the wind picked back up and threw sycamore leaves and dirt into the faces of the men just as George’s fist connected with Curley’s temple. A startled flock of wood thrush flew hurriedly away from the ranch as the men started shouting in surprise. Slim ran towards George and Curley as they began tumbling in the dirt awhile punching each other.

 “Enough! Stop!” he shouted as he grabbed George’s wrist to stop him from hitting Curley again. George turned his head to look at the older man whom he respected. Moving to get off of Curley, he didn’t see the hit coming. Using this moment to strike, Curley landed a harsh blow to George’s chin which he had been unable to deliver such a nasty hit while George was undistracted. George’s head snapped back with a loud crack as his teeth smashed together and he land on the dirt by Curley’s feet with a thud. Silence reined over the ranch for a moment before chaos tore through the quiet like a violent earthquake.

 “I said enough!” Slim roared, his voice echoing and melding with the distressed screech of a nearby red-tailed hawk while he yanked Curley off of the ground. He shook him furiously. “Only a mutt would give such a cowardly hit,” he seethed, throwing Curley’s own words back at him. “Ought to put a bullet in the back of your head. Right there,” Slim poked a dirty finger into the back of Curley’s skull. The man had enough brains to look frightened. Slim glared at the man before shoving him, hard, in the direction of his house. “Go get yourself cleaned up.  You better not bring your mutt stink back over ‘ere ‘til the funeral.” Curley stood dumbfounded for a moment but wisely ran towards his house when he realised that the other men were also glaring at him unkindly.

  All of the men moved to help George up and get him to his bunk before going off to finish whatever task they had left. Slim, however, remained by George’s side, only leaving for a moment when the boss came over to find out what all of the fuss had been about.

 George watched as Slim re-entered the empty bunkhouse with a grim look on his face. “What’s the verdict?” he asked, his voice hoarse and broken.

 “You’ve gotta go,” Slim said, regret clear in both his tone and his face. His eyes were solemn as they stared at the younger man whom he had wanted to call a friend.

 “Al’ight. I’ll be gone in that mornin’,” George announced dully before turning away from Slim, his eyes settling on the still vacant bunk where he knew Lennie should be. A single tear slid down his cheek and dropped onto his pillow, leaving a trail of clean skin in its wake.

\----------------------

George had crept out of the bunkhouse while the morning was still dark and now stood at the entrance of the ranch. Turning back for one last look, his eyes landed on the mountains. With a new idea forming in his mind, he changed course and began heading towards the mountains.


End file.
